operation fireworks
by bottledlogic
Summary: "It's Cap's birthday next week," Tony says suddenly. "So, we need to do something." / Two months in, and Maria's still not sure how to anticipate Tony Stark's mad plans.
1. an unassuming proposition

**A/N** : Part of a new series I'm writing that focuses on Maria's year at Stark Industries. I have another story ( _on the road to everywhere_ ) in this series already, but that one is chronologically last.

* * *

 **operation fireworks**

* * *

 **an unassuming proposition**

 _Thursday June 26th, 2014 – 7:42 PM_

Outside on the balcony of the Avengers' common floor, she sits with her back against the glass wall; torturous heels kicked off, and her legs stretched out in front of her. Her left hand idly plays with the almost empty beer bottle, while her right taps restlessly every so often on her phone. The slight warmth of the June air curls around her, and she lets out a soft exhale, immensely glad that the Avengers' floor requires special access.

She glances down at her phone as it beeps with an incoming message.

 _On the border of Russia and Belarus. Natasha's meeting us there. Sam says thanks for the new wings._

She allows a small smile to unfurl, fingers hovering over the screen.

 _Good. But I'll need her back by this Saturday. Keep me posted._

As an afterthought, she adds another line before sending. _I should be saying thanks – it kept Tony busy for a whole week last month._

Swiping through her phone, she finds a game of chess to occupy her for the next fifteen minutes before she heads back up to her office for the remainder of the night. She lets her head fall back against the surprisingly cool wall, and drains the rest of her drink.

The glass door beside her opens silently, and Tony steps through, clad in jeans and a shirt she guesses was once white. He doesn't seem to see her; instead, he grabs his own bottle from the cooler on the other end of the balcony and pulls a cigarette from his pocket. She watches him from her end, as he stalks toward the railing and leans over, not quite precariously.

He lights the cigarette, blowing soft rings into the evening air.

"Agent Hill."

"Stark."

She offers no more than that, eyes drawn back to the game at hand. Her now-empty bottle sits next to her, condensation gradually pooling on the ground, spreading.

"Privatising global security is a bitch," he says, gulping down the beer in one go.

"What the fuck did you expect?" She snorts, still concentrating on the screen, moving her queen to take her opponent's knight. "We tried it with the backing of various government bodies, and look what happened."

"I wasn't talking about the politics," he responds irritably. "I meant the tech."

She moves a few more pieces around, traps the king with her bishop and a pawn. Finally, she glances up at him. "What have you tried?"

He continues to stare out and down past the balcony. "Upgrading the Legion. Installing defence protocols in hotspots." He pauses, before adding carefully, "Ultron."

 _Game over_ , her screen flashes.

"We're still a fair way from needing something like Ultron," she cautions, tucking her phone away.

"I'm just fiddling around," he says defensively.

She nods once, "Let me know what you end up with."

The smoke rings spiral around his head, and he tilts his head up, watching them slowly disappear. Bored, but trying to keep his mind active, he mentally makes a checklist of all the members of his team, and their whereabouts. _Bruce – in Korea. Thor – London? Barton – doing hawk things. Romanoff – don't want to know. Cap – hunting?_

"Where's Rogers now?"

"Europe."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Ask him yourself, you gave him a phone," she shoots back. "Or, don't you have a tracker on the rest of the Avengers?"

He gives her a filthy look. "That was _your_ job."

"Not anymore," she says. "You should care."

"As should you. My _company_ doesn't _need_ you. So why the hell are you here?"

"Oh, I couldn't bear to miss the stellar banter," she says dryly.

He smirks. "Touché."

She glances down at her watch and lets out an almost inaudible sigh. "I'm heading back up. I'll see you at the board meeting on Monday."

He looks at her for a moment. "It's Cap's birthday next week," he says suddenly. "So, we need to do something."

"He's in Europe looking for Barnes. I don't think he's going to care too much about his birthday." She stands up, gracefully balancing to put on her shoes. "And you don't need a reason to throw a party. God knows you'll do it anyway."

"Tell him to come back."

"Did you miss the part where I said he's looking for his best friend?"

"I have a thing I need him to check out," he continues blithely. "It'll… make the team work better."

"Banner's flying in tomorrow."

"And it's _Cap's birthday_ ," he repeats. "Did you not hear a fucking word I said?"

"Seriously?" She raises an eyebrow. "I _just_ said—"

"—Yeah, I heard. But the guy doesn't _want_ to be found."

"Not the point," she says, curt.

"Never took you for the sentimental type, Hill. Would have thought you'd have just told him that," he says, tossing his bottle into the bin of empty bottles.

" _He_ needs to go find him," she replies calmly. "I'd rather wait until his head's back in the game."

He falls silent at that, in reluctant agreement. "I need a fucking break," he mutters, stubbing out his cigarette.

"You weren't even involved when we blew up S.H.I.E.L.D.," she says, amused smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah," he huffs.

She turns to leave, hand already pushing on the glass. "Look, I'll send him a message."

"Really?" He blinks, slightly taken aback.

"Yes," she says, tired. "I'm not your goddamn keeper."

"Just didn't think you cared enough," he explains bluntly.

"Not about what you think, no," she shakes her head. "But enough to keep your team functional."

"Of course. Knew there was I reason I hired you."

"Plan whatever you want. Just be prepared that half the team may or may not turn up," she smirks once, before disappearing through the door.


	2. an expected request

**operation fireworks**

* * *

 **an expected request**

 _Saturday June 28th, 2014 – 2:17 PM_

"Ma'am, there's a—" Her PA's eyes widen as she reads the name from her tablet, "—Agent Romanoff waiting in the lobby."

"Send her up, Emma," she replies. "And ask security to keep her clearance details on file." Knowing Natasha's habits, she closes her open files and cases, and arranges them in a stack behind her. She walks out from behind her computer, and clears away the mess from the couch in the corner, tossing a few subcommittee reports into the trash.

"Nice place," a voice drawls from behind her.

"Stark knows how to work in style," Maria says wryly, turning around. "But of course, it's nowhere near as fancy as the Tower."

Natasha looks properly at her friend, taking in the unfamiliar royal blue blouse paired with a simple grey pencil skirt and sickeningly high heels. She sweeps her eyes around the room, noting the glaringly spacious office and the touches of chrome. "Chameleon," she comments.

"You would know," Maria retorts. "Same company, if I remember."

"I swear the security guard almost wet himself," Nat rolls her eyes. "Speaking of which, you have a PA now?"

"One of Fury's handpicked Level 1s, actually."

"Knows enough, but not much? Sounds about right."

"Loyal agents willing to work here are in short supply." She leads them to the just-cleared couch. "How's Russia at this time of year?"

The corner of Nat's mouth tilts up, recognising a code. "Surprisingly cold," she replies without missing a beat. "With nothing to see or do."

Maria nods once in understanding. "Really? So, not worth visiting?"

 _Once a spy, always a spy_ , Natasha thinks. "You'd probably prefer to stay here. It's warmer." She inclines her head inconspicuously towards the tiny lens above the door frame that she spotted earlier, a momentary look of confusion crossing her face.

She nods in reply, acknowledging the unspoken question. "Yes, but there's probably less media attention over there," she grimaces, explains.

"Right," Nat agrees. "Vultures."

"You don't know the half of it," she says under her breath, pulling out a file from the stack on the low coffee table.

"Something for me?" Natasha asks, curious and relieved to have something to do.

"We never got around to completely clearing out the P.E.G.A.S.U.S. base after Loki's attack. Whatever was above ground and all the Phase 2 tech was taken out, but there's still a few underground floors with old S.H.I.E.L.D. equipment that we never bothered to dig out after the base collapsed."

"Retrieval, then? Does it matter anymore?"

"The equipment itself? Not really," she shakes her head. "But I'd like to tie up all loose ends. And god knows everyone's watching, so if I can at least divert them to some of our more favourable activities…"

"Do I get to take anyone with me?"

Maria hums for a moment, thinking. "Barton's out west?"

"For the moment."

"Thor's coming in from London tomorrow. He'll go with you."

Nat lifts a delicate eyebrow. "So, everyone's here except Rogers and Clint. What's the occasion?"

To her surprise, she's met with a pained look on Maria's face. "Stark wants to hold a fucking party for Rogers. Or something along those lines."

"Glad it's you, not me," Natasha quips.

"He can do whatever he wants. Whether Rogers actually turns up is none of my – or Stark's, for that matter – business. But if it means there are more Avengers here to clean up after the HYDRA mess…"

"Of course," Natasha smirks, leafing through the file. "So, when do you want us out?"

"Monday. You can take the least ostentatious of Tony's jets."

Natasha nods, skimming the inventory and calculating. "If this is all there is, it shouldn't take more than two days between the two of us. You want it back here?"

She shakes her head. "The Tower."

"You know, I don't think I've had a tech retrieval assignment since I first signed with S.H.I.E.L.D. and no one came near me without five weapons on them."

"Looks like you've come full circle," Maria smirks. "Don't forget to note whatever HYDRA personnel you come across."

"Oh, I won't," Natasha says, evil grin playing at her mouth, standing up to leave.

"And don't forget to have fun," Maria mutters sarcastically, and Nat swears she can hear a note of wistfulness in the former deputy director's voice.

...

 _Monday June 30th, 2014 – 11:30 AM_

"Agent Hill, did you put in an order for five hundred helium balloons plus delivery?"

She snaps her head up at Emma's question, gesturing for her PA to come in.

"Not an agent anymore," she replies automatically. "And no, I definitely did not. Did you get an invoice?"

Emma hands her the single sheet of paper. "It's billed to Stark Industries, but somehow, you've received the paper one. Which doesn't really make sense, if you ask me."

"No, it doesn't," Maria says slowly, more to herself. "And why the hell does _Stark Industries_ need to buy helium balloons?"

Her PA shrugs, backing out of the room. "I'll leave it with you, then."

Maria picks up her phone, before dialling a number she's becoming all too familiar with.

"You've reached the Life Mod—"

"Stark, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

A melodramatic sigh crackles down the line. "Hill. O ye of little faith."

"I told you to plan whatever the hell you want. But don't involve me anymore; I already messaged Rogers."

"I thought you'd want to… _vet_ whatever I came up with," he says innocently.

"You and I both know that this is _not_ all you've come up with," she snaps. "And five hundred helium balloons is a distraction. Give me a little credit."

"You cynical spy. You'll have to see, won't you?"

"And don't send me a _paper_ invoice that Accounting can handle."

"Paper can't be hacked, you should know that," he says, exuding a ridiculous amount of unholy glee. "And Accounting wouldn't know fun even if it bit them twice in their fucking asses."

She counts to five and exhales, "Look, we both have bigger things to deal with right now. If you want to keep going, fine. But leave me out of it. And we're fucking adults; birthdays don't need an exorbitant party."

He shrugs, and she can hear the soft rustle, followed by a loud _clang_ of a dropped wrench. "Suit yourself," he says, before disconnecting.

She leans back against her chair, kneading the bridge of her nose.

...

 _Monday June 30th, 2014 – 11:40 AM_

"Hi, could I order four bouncy castles for this Friday?... Yes, I meant four… No, it's a birthday party… Yeah, I know it's a busy day, sorry... Whatever you have, doesn't matter… Actually, delivery would be _fantastic_ … Stark Industries… Right, well, that's T-O-N-Y… Yep, then S-T-A-R-K… Yeah, that's me… Deliver by Thursday? That's _perfect_ … Yeah, thank you."

...

 _Monday June 30th, 2014 – 11:43 AM_

"Hey Bruce, you cook, right? Like, proper food?... Yeah, on Friday… Better you than me… You know what? You should drop by her office on Thursday… Nah, she won't mind…"

...

 _Monday June 30th, 2014 – 11:45 AM_

"Pep… Eh, Jeffords is probably half asleep anyway… So, this Friday… Look, can you make sure she's there?... Nothing, for fuck's sake!... Just make sure she's there… Yeah… Of course not, who do you think I am?... Yeah… Love you too."

...

 _Tuesday July 1st, 2014 – 3:18 PM_

She steps into her office to see a gaudily-designed paper invite sitting on her desk, the folded card decorated with more clip art than humanly necessary.

She promptly wads it up and throws it into the trash.

...

 _Tuesday July 1st, 2014 – 5:38 PM_

"Hey Barton, we need you in on Friday… Yeah, where are you exactly? You know what, never mind, just be here… What's it worth? Umm, I've got new trick arrows you can test… Yeah, great… Fuck no, Banner is… Everyone, that's the general idea, _Hawkeye_ … Yeah, her too… Yeah, I'll even let you add an extra vent on the gym floor… Gym only… Whatever…"

...

 _Tuesday July 1st, 2014 – 9:06 PM_

She's finishing up for the night when her phone beeps.

 _Just got back to the Tower, Stark and Banner have the leftover tech. Too easy._

Closing her office door behind her, she walks down the corridor as she replies back.

 _In that case, you can infiltrate the next HYDRA cell we find. With Thor._

No less than fifteen seconds later, her phone beeps again.

 _So, coming on Friday? :)_

She determinedly doesn't respond.

...

 _Wednesday July 2nd, 2014 – 8:14 AM_

"Maria, it's Pepper. Would you be up for drinks this Friday? At eight, maybe? There's a place just around the corner. And I was thinking we could invite Natasha along as well. I know you've been pretty busy, so just let me know. Hope your new apartment at the Tower suits you."

...

 _Wednesday July 2nd, 2014 – 10:27 AM_

"Pepper. I'd like to think you're not up to something, so I'll be there. By the way, it's the Fourth on Friday. You know a place that won't be packed?"

...

 _Wednesday July 2nd, 2014 – 10:32 AM_

"Pepper… Oh, really?... Well, of course she suspects, she's a fucking spy… Yeah, but you see, it's technically not a lie…"

...

 _Wednesday July 2nd, 2014 – 2:12 PM_

"Emma, could you forward these briefs to the department heads?"

"Sure, no problem."

"And if Senator Gardner calls back, transfer him over to Pepper's office, or R&D. Someone there can deal with his defence plans."

"Right. Oh, and Captain Rogers called half an hour ago when you were in that meeting with HR."

"Nothing urgent?"

"Didn't say anything to me."

"Okay, thanks for letting me know."

"And one more thing – Mr. Stark called and wants to know wheth—"

"—If you get any more calls or messages from him directed at me, tell him to piss off."

"Understood."

...

 _Thursday July 3rd, 2014 – 1:00 PM_

"Ms. Hill, you have a visitor to see you."

Before she has a chance to reply, she hears a single knock on her door, and said door swings open slowly.

"Agent Hill, do you mind if I…?"

"Dr. Banner," she sighs once and steps aside. "Come in."

He follows her into the office, and she closes the door, arms crossed as she stays standing in her spot. "God, you guys are persistent," she says sardonically.

He grins sheepishly, and holds out a paper bag. 'Lunch?"

Narrowing her eyes, she strides over to him, and carefully inspects the contents of the bag. "Romanoff or Stark?"

"It's just a green curry," he says with slight exasperation. "Natasha and Thor, actually. After you got them to work together. Which worked out well."

"So I've heard."

He swivels his head around, fidgety and unsure of where to look. He takes in the uncharacteristic mountains of paper and his eyes land on a report written in a familiar language. Pulling his glasses from his pocket, he puts them on and surreptitiously tries to move closer to read.

"What would you recommend?"

He jumps back a fraction and looks up to see her amused gaze. "I… er, I didn't…"

"I was going to show you that anyway, but since you're here, you may as well take it. It's one of HYDRA's labs, and I'm going to need to put someone in there. Who would you recommend?"

He takes a moment to further scrutinise the pages. "Based on their areas of research, probably a biochemist. Or a molecular biologist." His lips twist into a grim smile, "I'm assuming you have people?"

"Yes," she answers. "But if I don't have any biochemists?"

"Any biologist should be able to pass," he replies, gesturing at the file. "Might need to do a bit of background reading, but these projects don't seem to be extraordinarily difficult."

She nods, ushering him towards the door. "Keep the file and let me know any other specifics you come up with. Thanks for the advice. And for lunch," she says, deliberately avoiding one particular subject.

He hesitates before leaving. "He means well. Because S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, everyone's – well, except maybe Cap – been at the Tower more than in the last six months combined. Not that it was good that it fell," he adds hastily, "but…"

"Yeah," she says, somewhat subdued.

As the door closes behind him, she lets out a breath, whispers. "Now who's the sentimental one?"

...

 _Thursday July 3rd, 2014 – 4:20 PM_

A man stands in the lobby of the Stark Industries building, black jeans and a Rolling Stones shirt looking out of place amongst the throng of workers starting to trickle home.

"Yeah, just leave the castles by the water feature," he says, waving his arms. "We'll inflate them, don't worry, we've got the equipment here."

The man pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the coloured rubber next to the pretentious feature. Typing quickly, he attaches the photo and sends his message.

 _Pepper – Operation Fireworks is a go!_

 _..._

 _Thursday July 3rd, 2014 – 11:51 PM_

"Okay, Cap… She said she messaged you… No, she doesn't know about this, and I wanna keep it that way… You should have the tech on your end all set up… 11 PM tomorrow… Yep, that one… Of course I'm not telling you everything… Oh, and happy birthday… Not the fucking point, Rogers… Right, well, see you then."


	3. a surprising fulfilment

**A/N** : Sorry this took so long! But, on the plus side, I have a list of fics with Maria that _won't_ be affected by whatever plot _Civil War_ churns out, so be on the lookout for those.

* * *

 **operation fireworks**

* * *

 **a surprising fulfilment**

 _Friday July 4th, 2014 – 10:39 AM_

She steps into the lobby and is instantly assaulted by the cacophony of noises and smells. Picking her way through the crowds of SI employees and families and children among the bouncy castles, petting zoos, and hot dog stands, she spots the instigator in question.

She swears his face lights up for an infinitesimal fraction of a second, and she doesn't break the eye contact as he makes his way over to her.

"Hill. How'd you like the arrangement?"

"Not what I thought," she replies slowly.

He sighs dramatically and passes her a soda. "You threw out the invitation, didn't you?"

"It was written in Comic Sans with fucking _clip art_ ," she says. "No one in this goddamn building would have deliberately created that except you."

"Yeah, Pepper thought it was a joke when she got one," he admits.

She gestures around the packed lobby. "So this is an annual thing?"

"It can be," he shrugs. "My dear dad's parties – Christmas, New Year's, the Fourth, you name it – were always executives-only, alcohol, women, and self-promotion. Not that I don't care for that, but, I—well, _we_ seem to do a bit of property destruction on a semi-regular basis, so take this as my community service," he finishes with a smug smile.

She looks around again, and nods absently. "Not bad, Stark."

"I know," he says with an air of arrogance.

Shaking her head, she surveys that packed space for familiar faces, this time with a sad smile. "I've got another Congressional hearing next week and a stack of reports to read through. So I'll stay for a while, but…"

( _there are stories that her father told her – stories involving laughing people and food and balloons and fireworks and sunlight and parades – stories that feature her and her dad and her mom, stories that are entirely lies_ )

"Yeah, I get it. Put on happy faces for everyone," he says uncharacteristically quiet. He rubs his eyes before switching back to his normal smirking self. "Real party starts tonight, though."

She rolls her eyes, gives him one last small smile, and walks away to join the group of workers from the security division.

...

 _Friday July 4th, 2014 – 7:50 PM_

"Coming?" Pepper's head pops through the doorway.

"So we're still on?" Maria counters warily. "Where's Romanoff?"

"Downstairs. Staring contest with one of the guards."

"And Tony?"

"At the Tower with the others. Clint's not in yet, so it's a fair game of darts."

"Yet?" She asks, as she switches off her light and grabs her purse.

Pepper shrugs, joining her in the corridor. "Tony said he'd be there."

"Gang's back together again," she mutters.

Pepper looks at her with no small amount of amusement. "It's just a night off. You, me, and Natasha. Anything that happens after that is out of my control."

"Really."

She winces and looks down at her phone. "Mostly out of my control," she amends.

"Of course it is. I'm surprised you invited Nat, actually," she says, looking sideways at her and testing for a response. "After we sent her undercover here a few years back."

Pepper smiles serenely. "Well. We all have our jobs to do, don't we?"

Maria stares once at her, hard, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. "Right," she nods. "Let's do this, then."

...

 _Friday July 4th, 2014 – 8:56 PM_

"Okay, this round's on me," Pepper announces to her two companions.

"Thank god," Natasha says. "Avenging doesn't pay nearly as well as S.H.I.E.L.D. did."

"What pay?"

"Exactly," Nat replies, turning to Maria. "At least you've got a nice private sector salary. Probably even better than S.H.I.E.L.D., right?"

"Yes, but still _seriously_ underpaid, given the shit and fallout I have to deal with," she mutters, missing the understanding nod from Pepper. "Not why we do it, I suppose."

"No, but it doesn't hurt," Pepper says, waving the bartender over and giving her order. "I'll have a dry martini—"

"—a cosmo—"

"—and an old fashioned. Thanks," Maria adds before turning to Nat with a slight look of incredulity. "Cosmo?"

"Free country," Nat shrugs. "So, what were we talking about?"

"The lack of appreciation in privatising global security," Pepper answers with a smile.

Natasha hums in agreement. "Okay, best job you've ever had. Go."

"Easy. Barnes & Noble during college."

"Really? Retail's usually a nightmare."

"I loved books. And that was the last job I had before Killian and Stark Industries, so the nightmare paled in comparison," Pepper answers with a wistful grin. "Maria?"

She snorts. "Funnily enough, S.H.I.E.L.D. _was_ the best job. But let's say undercover as a diving instructor in Havana."

Nat lets out a low whistle. "So, how long did that go for?"

"Three and a half weeks, until Coulson pulled us out," she says. "So, not nearly long enough."

"Best undercover op I did was curating that art gallery in Milan. Had to fight Carter, Mikkelsen, and Lee for that one."

"And what about Stark Industries?" Pepper asks with an arched brow.

"Well, we both know how well that went," Nat says lightly. "It _was_ the start of a beautiful relationship, but…"

"Good lord, Romanoff."

Natasha gives a delicate shrug. "We Avengers have a unique and tested bond that's—"

"—Nat, you are so full of shit," Maria smirks.

"Okay, partially true, then," Natasha allows. "But Tony even let me play around in his mech lab yesterday. Grudgingly, but still."

"Barton's in there all the time."

"Yes, but Clint's basically Stark's guinea pig for all Avengers-related weapons and paraphernalia. Anyway, you can tell, because the testosterone is through the roof with those two in the same room."

"So, why the fuck would you go in?"

"It's the principle of the thing," Nat shrugs again. "If he says I can go ahead and modify my own tac gear using his admittedly superior equipment, why wouldn't I? It's a frat house, but I'll take what I can get."

"God, you're right, it is _essentially_ a frat house. This job is insane," she vents.

"What was it you said you wanted? A cocktail and a lobotomy?" Pepper remarks, eyes dancing with laughter.

"Absolutely," she says, raising her glass disdainfully, her two friends following suit. "To cocktails and lobotomies."

...

 _Friday July 4th, 2014 – 10:57 PM_

Pepper punches the button for the elevator, and as they get in, Maria sighs. "He's got JARVIS to put a lock a on my apartment, hasn't he?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But, you only need to hang around for ten minutes on the Avengers' floor," Pepper answers, shooting her a sympathetic smile.

"This is blackmail," Maria mutters.

"His methods could improve," Natasha agrees dryly, lounging against the glass wall of the elevator. "But, if you really wanted to, you could have stayed at your own place," she adds, with a shrewd glance at Maria.

She glares at her friend, before turning to stare out the polished glass. She watches as the lights outside get smaller and smaller, as they hurtle up towards god-knows-what. The elevator doors open, and she throws one last wary glance at Pepper before stepping out.

"Okay, let's get this over with, Stark," she says, coming face-to-face with the Avengers line-up, including the tired but smiling face of Captain America on the plasma screen.

Tony fiddles around with a remote before saying a tad too innocently, "Surprise?"

"It's not _my_ fucking party," she says, rolling her eyes and turning to the screen. "And happy birthday, Rogers."

"Thanks, Maria," he says with an amused grin. "Didn't think you'd be here."

"And I wasn't planning to come." She sends an icy scowl in Stark's direction. "But, here we are."

"Couldn't have you miss Captain fucking America's birthday party, could I? He's here, but not here. It's what you wanted, right?"

"Tony, it doesn't matter what I want, it _can't_ matter what I want. That's the point," Maria says quietly, looking past the billionaire and at the others scattered around the room. She spies Natasha and Pepper and Barton covertly listening in from the bar, Banner and Thor in conversation, Wilson loitering in the corner of the large screen. And she gives Steve a thoughtful look before continuing. "Because no one gives a flying fuck about the former deputy director of a corrupted intelligence agency, and your _party_ is none of my business, unless you lot decide to level half a city again. I do my job, so you can do yours. Don't put me in a position where this is compromised."

She looks alternately at the two leaders, waiting out the silence.

"Bullshit," Stark says finally.

Steve nods slowly from the screen. "Language," he smirks, "but I have to agree. What you do with this team, what you're going to be doing with us, it makes no sense if you don't have a say. Even with something like this," he says, gesturing at the room. "You're more integral to the team than you realise."

"So what do you want from me?" She eyes both of them carefully.

"Negotiation time, my favourite," Tony rubs his hands with glee. "Okay, we want your stunningly taciturn presence at all public Avengers' events, parties, galas, fundraisers, you name it—"

"—Thirty percent of them."

"Seventy-five."

"Fifty," she snaps back.

"Fifty, plus the ones where Tony and I are going, and Steve isn't," Pepper jumps in, with an almost imploring look. "Intelligent conversation is disappointingly scarce sometimes."

"I am not, nor should I be the part of the Avengers' public image," Maria reasons, before sighing. "Forty, plus those."

"Deal," Stark beams. "JARVIS, you got that?"

"Of course, sir," the smooth voice intones. "Ms. Hill's contract has been updated. All parties will receive an—"

"—Tony, it doesn't have to be a formal agreement," Steve winces, turning to Maria. "The point is, you can have the freedom to choose, Maria, we'd just rather have you here."

"Right, what he said," Stark nods sagely.

She huffs a small laugh. "Yeah. Okay."

"Really?"

"For now," she smirks. "I'm sure there'll be other issues of contention later on."

"Thanks for reminding me. I'll be working on that."

She rolls her eyes. "Of course you will."

"Absolutely," he replies with a shit-eating grin. "Right. Now that's over, party can start. Thor, hit that button on the panel over there, it does a thing…"

Maria shakes her head, preparing to leave and sending a tight smile to the figures still on the screen. "All the best, Captain. Message me if you need more resources."

"Of course," he nods. "You're not staying?"

"Yeah, where are you going, Hill? Forty percent starts now," Tony chimes in.

"Forty percent of _public_ events, Stark. And no, as Pepper so kindly told me, my ten minutes is up. We can start next week. Have a fabulous evening, gentlemen," she says dryly, before walking to the elevator.

Tony hums to himself for a moment. "I think that went well."

Steve simply rolls his eyes in response.

...

 _Monday July 7th, 2014 – 7:28 AM_

She walks into her office and comes face-to-face with a red helium balloon dangling from the ceiling, a square piece of card attached to the string.

She thinks about grabbing the letter opener from her desk and plunging it into the balloon, but changes her mind and reaches for the note instead.

 _Congratulations! First party down, a shitload more to go. Welcome to the club._


End file.
